


Welcome to Auntie's

by Kiiratam



Series: Monsters of Mistral [7]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Action-horror, Canon Compliant, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2021-01-31 04:26:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21440200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiiratam/pseuds/Kiiratam
Summary: On her way to Branwen turf, Yang stops for the night at a strange waystation.Takes place between Volumes 4 and 5. (My BMBLB fic index)
Relationships: Blake Belladonna/Yang Xiao Long
Series: Monsters of Mistral [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1546306
Comments: 23
Kudos: 64





	Welcome to Auntie's

"Helllllllooooo? Is anybody here?" Yang dismounted from Bumblebee, trying not to psych herself out. The lengthening shadows weren't helping. At least the storms had cleared up, but she'd been looking forward to an actual meal, not just pork and beans again.

  
The waystation didn't look abandoned. A recently repainted sign proclaimed it to be 'Auntie's Place'. No grass growing between the pavement, the front door and windows were intact, and Yang could hear an air conditioner running. And there was a thin plume of smoke coming out of the chimney of the place.

  
So where was everyone? She wasn't that far off the road to Mistral, and the last little village she'd passed through had been packed. Probably with people who'd run away from isolated farms. Yang didn't have Grimm activity reports in front of her - she doubted even the Mistral Council got those anymore - but there had definitely been more attacks. People were still scared. Which just led to more attacks, and... vicious cycle, yadda yadda.

  
She started up the front steps. And stopped when she heard the shotgun cock. No, shotgun**s**.

  
Darn it, why was it **always** shotguns?

  
"Just move along, stranger. We don't want any trouble."

  
The windows on either side of the front door. They had little gunports, to help see off any Grimm attacks. Nice design, but Yang would probably appreciate it more in other circumstances.

  
"Whoa, easy there. I'm not looking for trouble. I'm just looking for a place to sleep for the night. Maybe get a decent meal." She'd had this conversation way too often, the past couple weeks. Yang had her hands out from her sides, palms out. But this was her first time having to talk her way into a waystation. Their whole point was to keep the lines of communication open between the capital and the provinces and as a semi-intended consequence, give strangers a safe place to rest and restock. What was _wrong_?

  
Yang didn't want to stick her foot in her mouth. If they were this scared of people, it was either the government, a rogue Huntress, or bandits. From what she'd seen in Anima so far, the government in Mistral didn't care enough to oppress the provinces. As long as they were peaceful, mostly paid their taxes, and kept trade flowing, they were left to themselves. That didn't preclude a corrupt prefect, or some kind of special minister, or any number of weird Mistral practice, but Yang probably would have heard _something_ about it last village. Not that she was exactly stopping to listen to local chatter, but with that many people, it was hard not to overhear something.

  
A rogue Huntress, though - people might be afraid to talk about that. And Yang was purposely headed into bandit territory, so finding bandits troubling the locals wouldn't be surprising. But... why wouldn't they just say something? Did they think _she_ was a bandit?

  
"Nowhere to sleep here. And we ain't got the food to spare. Even if you got lien." Same person, voice tight. Yang could hear the fear spilling out around the edges of their words. Out here, that'd bring in Grimm quick.

  
Maybe it wasn't worth staying. But... Yang was curious. She hadn't talked to anyone in a few days, and she was starting to drive herself to distraction, doing circles in her own head. "Listen, I'm a Huntress. My name is Yang. Could you just-"

  
A roar interrupted her, rattling the windows.

  
One of the people behind the gunports swore loudly. The other one, the talker, withdrew their gun and said "Now you've done it. Get inside."

  
Yang heard bolts being undone. She put her back to the door, triggering Ember Celica and her shotgun-arm. That had _sounded_ like an Ursa. Sort of. There was something in the timbre, the tone that sounded wrong. "Why didn't you just _tell_ me there was a Grimm?"

  
Another roar. Closer. Sounding closer to normal. ...Angrier? That _did_ seem normal for Grimm.

  
"Damnit, girl, stop talking!" The door opened behind her, and Yang glanced back. It was a scowling woman, so battered by the elements that it was impossible to guess her age. She didn't have her shotgun in hand, which was _something_.

  
"Don't call me that!" Yang returned her eyes to the surrounding woods, scanning for the Grimm as she backed over the threshold.

  
Nothing. Just trees in twilight. Scowly slammed the door shut, and started ramming bolts home like they were pins into a voodoo doll. Shotgun wielder number two had swing around from the gunport, and had started to aim at Yang. And then the barrel just drooped, drooped, drooped, until it was trained on the floor. It was a boy, maybe a couple of years younger than her, with dark brown hair and a pollaxed look in his brown eyes.

  
_Yup, lust eyebeams._ Yang sighed internally. She was probably the first girl he'd seen in months. And at that age, boys fell in love at the drop of a hat. Or pin. Or anything, really. _Hopefully, he's too tangle brained to embarrass himself. That really wouldn't-_

  
"I guess Auntie decided you're my wife."

  
_ -help._ "Yeah, no." Yang turned to the woman. Definitely a family resemblance. "I'm not marrying your nephew."

  
Scowly gave her a bewildered look. "Chester's my son." And then the scowl was back. "Auntie's outside." She racked her shotgun next to the door, and crossed over to take Chester's too.

  
"You _named_ the Ursa?" 

  
Chester didn't know when to shut up. "You're beautiful."

  
Yang rolled her eyes. "Yeah, and that doesn't explain why you _named_ the _Ursa_."

  
"Auntie always said she'd get me a beautiful wife."

  
_ What was going **on** here?_ "Look, I don't know if you noticed, but I'm not from around here, so if either of you could just explain, I don't know, anything?!"

  
Scowly started talking again. "Didn't farmer An warn you off? Big fellow, reddish-brown hair, farm three hours north of here, right on the road?"

  
Yang had passed by what was left of a homestead earlier. Smashed apart by Grimm. She shook her head. "I think the farm you're talking about was attacked."

  
She swore. "His comms were always spotty. I was hoping it was just on the fritz again." Yang saw the pain on her face for an instant, then it just blended in with the scowl.

  
"I'm sorry."

  
"Well, that doesn't do any of us any good, does it?"

  
Chester gave her an apologetic look.

  
"What about Ningniúmen? Didn't anyone there tell you not to take this road?"

  
That must have been the village she stayed in last night. Yang had stopped registering village names several provinces ago. "Filled with refugees. They must have had their hands full."

  
Scowly kept swearing. "It's not like this is a _crisis_! I wonder if they even sent our request for a Huntsman to the capital."

  
"Well, whether they did or not, I'm here now."

  
"Please. You're just a kid."

  
Scowly really didn't want to make friends. "Fine. I'll just leave you to get eaten by 'Auntie.'" Yang reached for the first of the bolts.

  
"No, don't!" Chester blurted out. "Mom, please. Tell her."

  
How was the horny teenager the more helpful one? Yang schooled her face neutral, and waited.

  
Sighing, Scowly said, "Chester, make tea for our guest." She stomped over to the nearest table - there were maybe a dozen, along with a long counter, and a few racks of travel needs. Stairs in the back of the room probably led up to bedrooms, and a pair of swinging doors led to a kitchen. "Come on, sit down."

  
Yang sat. On the edge of her chair, ready to bolt up if the Ursa poked its head through a window. She hadn't heard anything else, but Grimm could be surprisingly quiet. Her dad had a story about the time STRQ took on a pack of silent Beowolves that turned out to be hiding _inside_ of a town.

  
"I'm Honey Knutsen. You met Chester." He beamed at her from behind the counter, and Honey slumped into a chair. "This was - is - Auntie's Place. Auntie was a tiny old woman from Mistral, took over this place... fifteen years ago? She didn't ever use her real name. Just asked everyone to call her Auntie."

  
Eccentric, but folks who ran waystations tended to be just a little weird. It took a particular sort of person to deal with travelers all day, and still be horribly isolated. Yang held her questions. Interrupting wouldn't make this go any faster, and now that Honey was actually talking...

  
"She hired me - um, twelve years ago? Bandits destroyed our village, killed my husband. I was headed to Mistral, stopped here, didn't leave. For a waystation, Auntie's was always busy. Even the locals would come in, like it was a small town pub. Even An, who had to travel three hours each way. So she hired me to make food, while she made everyone feel at home."

  
Yang looked around. Someplace where everyone knew your name. Whatever had happened, there wasn't any of that atmosphere left.

  
"She was more than just everyone's friend. Auntie fancied herself a matchmaker, and every time she made a match, it seemed to work great. So she promised me that, when Chester was grown, she'd find him a match, too."

  
He gangled over with the tea service, pouring for her and his mother. Smelled like Blake's blend. A Mistral green, then. Not surprising. He took a seat, and poured his own tea. For lack of anything to do, Yang took her tea cup. Too hot to drink, but at least it occupied her hands for the moment.

  
"She passed about four months ago, during the winter. We buried her in the backyard. And soon after, Grimm attacks just... died off." Honey took a sip of her tea. "They'd gotten bad since the CCTS went down. But then they just... stopped. No Beowolves nosing around, no Boarbatusks following travelers in."

  
"What happened?"

  
Chester jumped it. "One of the travelers told us she'd seen an Ursa fighting a pack of Beowolves. She gave it a wide berth, but the Ursa was winning."

  
"But Gr-"

  
"Don't! She doesn't like the 'G' word."

  
Yang clamped her mouth shut. They were explaining. Let them get it out, then ask questions. But Grimm didn't fight among themselves. 

  
Honey picked the story back up. "Locals said the same thing. Finding places where there had been fights. One or two saw a big Ursa taking on others. Big, with bright blue eyes." Honey paused, took another sip. "'Bluer than blue,' is what they called it. The most perfect blue anyone could imagine - unreal. Most of the locals, this is too much. They're spooked, and they head elsewhere. To Mistral, other villages, anywhere. And then one day, I'm working in the yard, and I look up, and I see an Ursa watching me. Sitting down, staring at me with bluer than blue eyes. The same shade as Auntie's, just... more."

  
Yang lifted her tea to her lips. Set her cup down. "So, what? You think Auntie is a giant Ursa now?"

  
"I _know_, I _know_, it's the most ridiculous thing you ever did hear. But-" Honey leaned in closer. "Auntie had tons of lien. More than she could have gotten doing honest work in Mistral. And she knew the strangest travelers - rough, dangerous folk. Some who came down the road to Mistral just to talk to Auntie. Get her advice."

  
"So she was an ex-crime boss."

  
"No. I think she was an ex-assassin."

  
Some very strange pieces fell into place in Yang's head. "Wait. Are you telling me that the _Blue-Eyed Ghost_ slasher movies-"

  
"-Where the killer has a Semblance that lets them possess anyone, but anyone who's possessed gets the killer's bright blue eyes?"

  
"That doesn't make it seem _less_ ridiculous. Those weren't true crime movies. They were cheap, schlocky horror!" Surprisingly creepy, though. Like urban legends that had been filmed.

  
Honey sat back in her chair. "What, you think the writers wouldn't base a movie on underworld superstitions? Besides, Auntie was always insightful. Like she could see the inside of people's heads. Maybe the movies make it more exciting, and Auntie could only read minds, or something. Maybe she ran an information network, and wasn't an assassin. I don't know. But I am dead certain she's the one inside of the big Ursa. She drove off all the others. Made sure we were safe."

  
"So why send for a Huntress?"

  
Chester sighed. "Because people started dying."

  
Honey nodded. "First, it was rude travelers. Then, anyone who used the 'G' word. Then, all travelers, unless they used their name, at which point she treated them like a local. Then, locals who had been a pain in Auntie's butt. Then, any local who tried to leave Auntie's place. I don't know how much control Auntie really has, anymore."

  
"But she keeps bringing us dead deer. And it's not like we were short on food in the first place." Chester drained his cup, and poured himself another.

  
"So, where are the other locals?"

  
"They tried to go home." Honey didn't say anything else, just sipped her tea.

  
Yang nodded. "And I introduced myself, and I'm Chester's age."

  
"So Auntie thinks you're a local now, and that you should marry Chester, yes. At least, that's what I'm guessing."

  
Chester, at least, blushed at that.

  
"No offense, but I have a serious girlfriend." Yang hoped that wherever Blake was, she'd forgive her that lie. 

  
Honey shrugged. "Can't leave." She put her tea cup down. "We've got plenty of food. If we don't drive each other crazy, we can wait for the Huntsman team I requested to show up. I mentioned Auntie's Place, so some of her less savory friends will probably pick it up. They can deal with it."

  
"Look, I have my own life. I can't just sit here for however long it takes. Unless you want Haven Academy to fall like Beacon."

  
Snorting, Honey said, "No one's that important, kid. Especially not when they're your age."

  
"No wonder Auntie had you cook. I wouldn't want you talking to people either."

  
"I've been stuck here, watching everyone I know die. How well would _you_ handle it?!"

  
Yang sighed. "Look, will Auntie come out if I call for her?"

  
Chester blanched. "You can't fight her! Other people have tried, and they've just been-" He trailed off, eyes flickering back and forth.

  
"I'm not going to fight, if I don't have to. I just want to talk. Introduce myself." Yang looked at Honey.

  
She nodded. "She'll come."

  
"Okay. Could you get some dinner on? This shouldn't take long."

* * *

"Auntie? Can we talk? It's me, Yang." She sighed internally. "Chester's fiancee?" She hoped Blake would forgive her _that_ lie, too. S_orry, Blake, I had to pretend to be some guy's fiancee so I could talk to the old woman possessing an Ursa._ It might be easier to just... not mention it.

  
Because Yang had _so many_ appointments lined up to talk to Blake. She didn't even know if Blake was still alive. If Adam had caught her. If she would ever even want to talk to Yang again. Just a ghost in her mind, now. Thinking about Blake made her feel less lonely. Even if that was a lie, too. But it would hurt too much to cut Blake back out of her soul. May as well leave her there. A cherished memory with a bitter end. Yang's own little tragedy, complete with third act maimings.

  
The first act had been nice. Relevant right now was when Blake had dropped an Ursa with a single stab. Because Auntie was coming out of the woods, blue eyes shining bright in the darkness.

  
Yang waited for it - her - to come within ten feet. Closer than she'd really like, but...

  
"Are you doing well, Auntie?"

  
It nodded. It hecking _nodded_. Honey was right. Or at least right enough.

  
"Chester and I were thinking a summer wedding. Does that sound good?"

  
Nod. Still disturbing.

  
"I've heard you were pretty famous back in Mistral. You even got movies made about you."

  
A shuffling step, and it put a paw over its nose in broad gesture of embarrassment.

  
"I saw all of them, and let me tell you, they don't do you justice."

  
Repeated nodding.

  
"Did you ever see the fourth one? Uh, _Blue-Eyed Ghost: Final Reckoning_?"

  
Nod. It- she- had settled down on her hindquarters. Like a giant, horrifying Zwei.

  
"Where the Blonde finally thinks she's killed the Blue-Eyed Ghost - the original - with that chunk of rebar and concrete. And we get a few shots-reverse shots of the brutalized corpse and her face, as she calms down. And then we hear sirens, and there are police and Huntsmen and Huntresses everywhere. And then the credits roll. Do you remember all that?"

  
Another nod, followed by a peevish chuffing in the back of the Ursa's throat.

  
"Well, did you ever see the post-credit scene?"

  
Auntie cocked her head. She evidently hadn't.

  
"Well, the Blonde is sitting in the police station, and everything's bustling around her. She's got a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, and she looks exhausted, half-asleep, with her eyes closed, but she's got a smile on her face. Because it's finally over." Yang paused, waiting for a reaction.

  
The Ursa leaned in, just a touch.

  
"And she opens her eyes... and they're bright blue. Your eyes."

  
Yang didn't know that an Ursa could laugh, but Auntie was doing a pretty good impression.

  
"So here's what I think. I think when your body died, you activated your Semblance. But you didn't have the strength to permanently take someone over, so you took something without a soul. Something that couldn't fight back. What you're wearing now."

  
She nodded.

  
_And now, the gamble._ "But you're strong again. So if you activated your Semblance again, especially if someone wasn't resisting you, you could move in. Permanently."

  
Slowly, hesitantly, Auntie nodded again.

  
"Auntie... I don't like me anymore. I broke. I was weak. My ex's ex cut my arm off. And the one I have now has some cute tricks, but it's not the same. It'll _never_ be the same. Never be how it was. And my ex - Auntie, I loved her." Yang blinked back tears. "I still love her, and there's _nothing_ I can do anymore. I don't even know if she's still alive. If she died, alone, thinking that I hated her. I-" Yang scrubbed at her eyes with her real hand. "I don't want to die anymore. But I want to just... not be. Can... we help each other?"

  
The Ursa sat still, blue eyes piercing her. And then ---

* * *

_ "Oh, you're right. You really **are** a mess."_

  
_ "Auntie?"_

  
_ "Hush, hush, little Yang. Hmm, Yang, Yaaang, I like the name. I think I'll keep it. Now, now, don't you fret, just lie back and think of nothing in particular, and Auntie will take care of everything."_

  
_ "Auntie. I'm scared."_

  
_ "Don't be, little one. Auntie will take care of it. Almost... there."_

  
_ "Are you here, Auntie? Are you all here?"_

  
_ "Don't be afraid, Yang. I'm here. And because **I** don't want to ruin your nice young body, I even made my last body kill itself first. Broke down a tree and impaled itself. I got that one from the second movie - it's a cute trick, don't you think?"_

  
_ "Auntie... my Aura hurts."_

  
_ "Only for a moment, Yang. Only until I make it mine."_

  
_ "Yeah, about that...."_

  
_ "Yang. Yang, what are you doing? You said I could have you!"_

  
_ "I lied. I figured running around in an Ursa had given you delusions of strength. Being twelve feet tall will do that. But you're just a soul that's been possessing a soul-less creature. For what, five months? Committing atrocity after atrocity, hurting people you might have cared about in life? You're all shriveled up."_

  
_ "You don't even want to live! I can see your mind, Yang!"_

  
_ "Yeah, and? Where have you been the last thirteen years? I can at least find something worth dying for. Stopping a body-hopping ghost? Seemed like it was worth the risk."_

  
_ "It burns! Why does it burn?"_

  
_ "Well, I'm no expert, but I guess you just felt me trigger **my** Semblance. I was curious. I figured, it changes my eyes to bright red, your Semblance changes eyes to bright blue, and my eyes are purple. I can't lose, really. Absolute worst case, I burn my Semblance out, and trust me, I've gotten **so many** dad-lectures on how I rely on it too much. I could live with never getting one of those again."_

  
_ "Yang!"_

  
_ "Just die already. And I'm not marrying Chester. Lied about that too."_

  
_ "...yaaaaaaaang..."_

  
_ "Oh, and your movie franchise sucked."_

  
_ ".....ng....."_

  
_ "Bye, Auntie."_

* * *

Looking around nervously, shotgun in hand, Honey asked, "What the heck just happened?"

  
Yang shook her head, feeling her Semblance deactivate, and her eyes go back to normal. "Huntress trade secrets."

  
"Really?"

  
"Not a bit. I got lucky. So, what's for dinner?"


End file.
